


Will's Stomach Flu

by LivingOnTheEdge5



Series: Little!Will and Daddy!Hannibal [11]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bathing, Bedtime Stories, Diaper, Fear of Drowning, Hallucinations, Hand Feeding, Illness, Little!Will, M/M, Mr. Bear - Freeform, Pacifiers, Popsicles, Vomiting, daddy!Hannibal, dubcon diapering, non sexual age play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingOnTheEdge5/pseuds/LivingOnTheEdge5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for dearest telera whom, when asked if I could write her a little story to help with her convalescence answered: "...Or maybe a little fic where Will has a very high fever and daddy Hannibal looks after him day and night and day <3"</p><p>This is the outcome of that request, I hope it's close to what you wanted!</p><p> </p><p>Note: To readers who don't care for dub-con -skip this one- I'll see you next time :-)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Will's Stomach Flu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [telera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/gifts).



> Written for dearest telera whom, when asked if I could write her a little story to help with her convalescence answered: "...Or maybe a little fic where Will has a very high fever and daddy Hannibal looks after him day and night and day <3"
> 
> This is the outcome of that request, I hope it's close to what you wanted!
> 
>  
> 
> Note: To readers who don't care for dub-con -skip this one- I'll see you next time :-)

Hannibal is instantly alert.

 He goes through a mental checklist; possible reasons he's been awakened from a dead sleep at...he consults his phone... 2:11 AM.

 A sound, faint, but distinct reaches his ears. The shape and brightness of the tiny sliver of light seen through his cracked door is another data point. Will's bathroom light is on; the sound he's heard is Will retching. Will's lethargy and poor appetite this evening is suddenly explained.

 Hannibal leaps out of bed and pulls on his robe; the November night is chilly, a hint of approaching winter. Outside, an icy rain pours down in relentless sheets. He shuffles into slippers and follows the trickle of light down the hallway. As soon as he steps inside the best spare room, the sharp tang of bile confirms his hypothesis. He turns on the light and scans the pleasant space, decorated with the tastes of a child in mind. This is where Will sleeps while in his little mindspace. A moment later, and Hannibal has recreated the scenario; Will, ill and feverish, had awoken, attempted, but failed to make it to the toilet in time; is still there now.

 "Will?" He calls softly pushing open the bathroom door. He finds Will, on his knees before the commode heaving and coughing. Hannibal is happy to note his bare legs are cushioned by a fluffy bathmat; small mercies he supposes. Will spits-up one last time before raising a pale face to Hannibal; his eyes are open, but his gaze unfocused.

 A jolt of irrational fear courses through the older man. Though he's dismissive about catastrophic thinking in others, he's guilty of if himself when it pertains to Will.

 "Will?" He calls again, kneeling down to cup the man's head with one hand while taking his pulse with the other.

 Will burps violently, spewing molten vomit across Hannibal. "Daddeeee?" He whimpers, beginning to cry.

 "Shhh, shh, it's alright, little one," Hannibal soothes, relieved Will is allowing himself to be cared for while in his little mindspace; it simplifies matters considerably.

 "Let me get you a cup of water to rinse your mouth out."

 Hannibal flushes the toilet, rips off his own vomit-saturated pajamas, then goes to the sink.

 Nude and shivering, he runs a few inches of tap water into Will's plastic Winnie the Pooh cup. "Don't drink it," he cautions as he kneels down beside his boy."Just rinse your mouth then spit it out."

 Will's teeth are chattering; naturally some of the water spills across his already vomit-stained front.

 "Ahhhh," he cries miserably, "Gettin' wet!"

 "I know, baby boy. Daddy will fix it."

 While he speaks, Hannibal is busy wrapping a towel around his boy, then another around his own middle. He soothingly strokes little Will's hot forehead while they wait for the bath to fill. When it reaches three quarters of the way, he strips Will of his soiled undershirt and boxers. "In you go," he cajoles, helping the feverish boy into the tepid water.

 "Aaaaa! Cold! Daddy!" Will protests as soon as one foot sinks into the bathwater. His struggling, weak as it is, still manages to splash water all over Hannibal and the marble floor.

 "It's just your fever, sweetness." Hannibal assures him, pushing him all the way into the tub. "We need to bring your core temperature down."

 Will raises terrified, blue eyes to his daddy."YOU'RE TRYING TO DROWN ME!" He screams, attempting to climb out of the tub. "HELP! HELP!"

 Luckily for Will, he is quickly overpowered before he manages to slip and hurt himself. Hannibal knows it is just the fever talking, but is glad nonetheless that his house boasts thick walls and triple- paned windows; it wouldn't do for his neighbors to think someone was being murdered in their home.

 " _Ne, ne, ne,"_ he soothes his boy while scooping handfuls of water over his shaking body." Daddy loves his little boy, he would never hurt him!"

 Will finally stops thrashing, the brief tussle draining him of energy. He slumps in Hannibal's arm; his body radiating heat.

 "Daddeeee, dadddeeee, dadddeee" Will whines then vomits pure bile.

 "Merde!" Hannibal curses under his breath and checks his boy's hydration level; the flesh is still firm, it springs back from his touch. " _Good,_ he thinks," as he pulls the plug and rinses Will off, " _no signs of dehydration yet_."

 "Daddy said a swear...oooh... my head hurts daddy! Stupid ol' hefalump sat on it...I told him 'stop' but he wanted my 'samich' ..." Will is feverishly rambling, but at least he is staying in place. Hannibal helps him rinse his mouth out as he refills the tub.

 "Now, darling, you may swallow two little sips," he says, hoping Will's stomach is amenable.

 "Thirsty! "Little Will whines when the cup is taken away." Matty drank all the water in the pool daddy! Now we can't swim...I don't like the water today; it's too hot!"

 Hannibal locates the ear thermometer and secures a reading; 102.7 F. " _High, but not dangerously so_ ," he concludes. "Alright sweetness, daddy's going to get you out of the tub, do you need to throw-up again?"

 Will shakes his woozy, floppy, head.

 "Let me know if you do. Alley-oop!"

 Hannibal lifts his dripping boy out of the bath and wraps him in several towels until he resembles a feverish mummy.

 "One little sip!"

 He holds the cup back to Will's lips. "Then, once you're snug in daddy's bed, I'll get you popsicles; the ones which are good for your little tummy."

 Little Will nods, half lucid. "Popsicles...lotsicles... slotscicles," he babbles as Hannibal carries him to the master bed and places him onto its exact middle; Will stares mutely up at him.

 "Daddy will be right back," Hannibal promises then hurries to his own powder room to gather every clean bath towel.

 He returns and arranges the towels over his bedding.

 "Sweetheart?" He caresses Will's forehead. "Be a good boy and stay right here. Daddy's going to go get you a bowl and some medicine. Alright?"

 Will nods and winces; an alarm sounds in Hannibal's head.

 "Sweetness? Can you bring your chin down to your chest?"

 Will demonstrates he is capable of the action; Hannibal scans his boy's clear skin and rules-out meningitis. "Good boy! I'll be right back!"

 Hannibal, still clad in nothing but a drenched bath towel, hurries downstairs and into the kitchen. He gathers two large mixing bowls, several Pedialyte popsicles, liquid Tylenol, and anti- nausea medication left over from little Will last bout of stomach flu.  
Upon his return he is startled to see that Will is no longer on the bed. "W..." He begins then stops short; he's caught sight of a boy-sized bundle of sheets, towels and blankets, crumpled on the floor. Hannibal drops his items and races around the massive bed. He finds his boy whimpering quietly on the rug.

 "Did my baby fall out of bed?"He asks, checking for injuries.

 Will, nods, wailing weakly. Hannibal scoops him up and re-settles him.The boy's eyes are clamped shut, hot tears oozing from beneath dark lashes.

 Hannibal reaches a decision; one he knows won't be popular with his little one. He goes to his closet and pulls-out a diaper and a pacifier and carries them over.

 As soon Hannibal pulls the towels off Will's  legs, the boys' eyes pop open. "Cold, daddy!" He whines. Then he sees what Hannibal is holding and squeals his opposition. "No, daddy! No diapers!"

 "Just for tonight, little one. Daddy needs to keep you safe in bed, alright?"

 A tear slips down the side of little Will's face, but the idea of staying in a soft bed does sound good. Pouting, he nods his consent.

 "That's my good boy," Hannibal purrs, quickly diapering his boy. "Now...I'm going to sit you up a bit... good... and feed you bites of your popsicle; alright?"

 Will immediately opens his mouth like a baby bird; he hasn't been allowed a popsicle in months.

 For the first time that night, Hannibal laughs. "Yes, my little baby bird! Daddy will feed you; just let me put on some clothes." Little Will watches through half-lidded eyes as Hannibal discards his towel-kilt and dresses in clean pajamas.

 "Blue or pink?" He asks, holding two ice pops.

 "Pink."

 Hannibal tears the top off the Pedialyte freezer pop, breaks a small piece off, and places it directly into Will's open mouth.

 "Good, boy," Hannibal croons as Will's strong, white teeth crunch the icy concoction; his little, pink mouth opens for more.

 Slowly, and allowing for his little one's tummy to adjust, Hannibal feeds Will the entire freezer pop. He glances at his phone; it has been fifteen minutes since Will last vomited.

 "More daddy!?"

 "Yes, baby, daddy will get you another one, as soon as you take this medicine."

 Hannibal administers the liquid acetaminophen and the nausea pill, while telling little Will a tale to distract him.

 "Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Will. He was a very sweet and good little boy as well as a curious one."

 Hannibal stops at this venture to prepare another freezer pop.

 "What happens next, daddy?" Will murmurs reaching for the ice pop. Hannibal allows him to hold the popsicle while he adjusts the sheet then continues.

 "One beautiful autumn day, Will decides to visit the woods near his home. The little boy doesn't know it, but this was a very special wood; part of an ancient land ruled by a magical wizard. All Will knows is that it's trees seem to beckon him; 'come play with us!' They call as the  wind stirs their branches.

Will, crunching his way through the blue ice pop smiles; 'Little Will' tales are some of his favorites.

 "So the little boy walks across the road and enters the woods. He walks for a long time, until he comes to a clearing. And what do you think he saw?"

 "A little house!"

 "That's right baby boy! A little, green house, with a little white picket fence, with wee shirts hanging on a little, rope clothes line."

 Little Will giggles and wriggles his toes; he knows what comes next.

 "As the boy watches, the door opens and a small, fat, bear, just Will's size comes out. He's carrying a wicker basket but stops when he sees the boy."

 "Mr. Bear!"

 "Yes, sweetness; it was Mr. Bear. The bear welcomes the boy; Hannibal's voice becomes squeakily bear-like. _'Hello! My name is Thaddeus Winston Bear the Third! But you may call me Mr. Bear_!'"

 Will smiles drowsily and slips down under the sheet. He turns onto his side, one hand pillowing his cheek, while his thumb finds his mouth. Lying on Hannibal's soft bed, luxuriously sucking his thumb, he feels comfortably float-y ; his drooping eyes glued to his daddy's handsome face.

 "Mr. Bear invites the boy into his boy-sized home and prepares them both a splendid tea.' _Shall we take this into the garden?_ ' He asks his new little friend."

 Little Will's eyelids, fluttering as Hannibal's voice tugs him towards sleep, are now completely closed.

 Hannibal takes his boy's temperature; 101.8 F.

 Deciding not to risk rousing Will by dressing him, Hannibal drapes a lightweight cotton blanket over the sleeping figure then makes himself comfortable. His sixth sense warns him not to leave the room quite yet. Sure enough, within an hour, Will's condition deteriorates. He begins thrashing and calling-out in his sleep.

 Hannibal places his lips to his boy's forehead; hotter. He takes another reading; 102.5 F.

 " _Damn. This is a stubborn fever_."

 He pulls off Will's blanket, then goes to prepare a damp cloth for his forehead. During his short absence, Will has kicked-off the remaining sheet and is mumbling in his sleep. "Noo! Don't wannaaa!"

 Hannibal hopes Will's activity won't spark another round of vomiting; thankfully it doesn't.

 Hannibal locates the pacifier on the bedside table and pops into his boy's mouth; Will immediately begins sucking and quiets. He flops onto his stomach, diapered bottom slightly raised and sighs; the pacifier bobs once, then goes still.

Another two hours passes; Will continues to sleep peacefully, Hannibal sends Jack an email explaining Will's absence from work today. Then he goes downstairs to collect provisions: a carafe of hot coffee, fruit, a pitcher of water and Will's favorite sippy cup. He breakfasts whilst debating whether sleep is more beneficial at this stage than Will's next dose of medication. Smiling tenderly at the diaper-clad figure, he finishes his meal and decides to let sleeping babies lie.

 After tidying the room, Hannibal checks his boy's forehead; cooler. He climbs into bed and rests one hand on Will's padded bottom. Patting it softly, he covers himself with the duvet and scootches down.

 Hannibal listens with relish to the sounds all around him: the rain hitting the window, his boy's whiffiling breathing, the crackle of fine linen, and disposable diapers.

Slowly, bit by bit, Hannibal's eyes drift shut. The last thought he has before succumbing to sleep is how many times he will be subjected to watching "The Many Adventures of Winnie The Pooh" whilst Will convalescences.

 "Multiple," he surmises, and falls asleep; smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Will thinking he was being drowned in the bath was based on an something that happened to a friend of mine.


End file.
